


One Little Moment

by thatsoccercoach



Series: Beauchamp, Plain and Tall [5]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Beauchamp Plain and Tall, F/M, Family, Plover, Prairie Frasers, Rebuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: After the drought, what does it mean to come home? Are all things new? What is the same?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Beauchamp, Plain and Tall [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1322984
Comments: 170
Kudos: 191





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything new in a hot minute! Even my other "new" fic has been sitting in my drafts for almost a year. I have been wondering if/how I would ever continue where Plover left off. Plover was based on a book (as was BPT) and I never cared for the story that came next! What would I write if I were in charge? Today, minutes before I started work (FYI, I 100000% hate what my job has become now and it makes me want to scream every day, so that's a new kind of inspiration, I suppose) I started rambling and it became a prologue, which morphed into an outline, which grew into a chapter. So now you have the first bit for yourself! My hope is that it brings you a tiny bit of relief in the midst of this time of tumult.
> 
> The title is a quote from a book later on in the series that inspired this work. "And that's the way life is. Something happens...one little moment in time. If you're lucky, you have a chance to make things better. Don't let it pass."

I had thought once that we could return home and everything would be the same. The longer we had stayed in Maine, the more I came to realize that couldn’t be so. We were all changed. While I would have thought that a terrible thing  _ before,  _ I realized now that it was just  _ life. _

The land itself had undergone a transformation. We had watched our lush fields wither in spite of Da’s work. We had seen the scars left by drought and then by fire. Though the creek ran again and there was water in the pond, we returned to a different land.

Our neighbors were different too. There were people in town who were missing; moved on to other land where we’d not see them again. There were letters from Jenny and Ian saying they were well, telling of their plans, plans to come back home to the prairie.

We were different as well, though that was harder to see. My mother, Claire, says it is often difficult to see clearly what is closest to you. She says this when she’s spoken harshly or foolishly to Da or he to her.

Physically, it is simple to see the changes. Willie grew so much it’s as if the sea water and sunshine caused him to sprout. The hem of his pants hovers far above his bony ankles and his shirtsleeves are short as well. His coppery hair is lightened by the sun and freckles sprinkle his face. I suppose I am taller too, though none so much as Willie. And Da, his face looks more tired and there are new furrows in his brow, but he is quicker to smile now and the edges of his eyes crinkle with joy, especially when he looks at Claire. She is the one who changed the most, even before the bairn grew enough to see. The way she carried herself and how her eyes seemed to look both far away and dreamy while at the same time seeing straight to your soul if she looked at you. 

There are changes you can’t see, too. Or maybe you can see them somehow, but not with your eyes. Where we have been, what we have experienced, has changed us all in invisible ways. Willie learned, barely, how to read. We both know now, my brother and I, what it is to be kissed by the mist of a crashing wave. Claire knows what it is to come  _ home  _ instead of just returning to the place she once lived.

I suppose much of this sounds melancholy, but I don’t mean it as such. Da says that it’s tradition, telling these tales. That Scots never forget their past and are born story-tellers. My mother says that stories, memories, and dreams are how we bridge the past and present; how we connect in time and space.

Whatever these changes are, they’re part of a story. Each bit, a piece of who we were and who we are now. Our story.


	2. For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same and different, changed and unchanged, Brianna is beginning to realize that some things can't be fixed or go back the way they were and some things are better off moving forward. Some things are best if you seize the moment and find the best in everything.

I had known, once we returned, that things wouldn’t be exactly the same, The moment our wagon had pulled into the yard I had seen changes.

That evening, the evening my family finally had arrived home from Maine, Claire and I sat on the bench on our front porch together. Da had sent Willie to bed as his head lolled at the dinner table and was working close to the fire to see the details in his project. The air was stifling, especially after the months of closeness to the water. Claire’s eyes were closed, her head tilted back against the dry boards of the house. I watched her, still and calm, finally breaking the silence.

“Do you still want to fix it?” I waited for her answer, certain that she heard my heart in the question.

“Hmm,” she replied, slowly opening her eyes and smiling. “In a sense, yes,” she went on. “It’s in my nature to try to stop things that are wrong or to make whole things that are broken.”

“Da says you’re a healer. He means more than just knowing which herb to brew into a tea or how to make a salve. He means the way you try to change the world.”

“The word, is it?” Claire laughed in the way that always made me smile along. “Maybe so,” she paused thoughtfully. “I would love to change the world in a good way.”

_You do, Claire,_ I thought.

“But at times there are things we cannot fix. There are things we cannot change,” I protested, thinking that there would never be a way back to how things were and trying to imagine how new wonderful things could come into our lives. I was trying not to miss the past and to be grateful for the present. There were so many feelings warring in me.

Neither of us said anything for a moment, though the crickets created a din. It made me both miss the sea and be glad I was back.

“I don’t know that we need to _fix_ this anymore, Bree.

“But,” I began to protest. She held out her hand, inviting me to move closer to sit beside her in spite of the heat. “If we’d had no drought,” the word stuck in my throat like a wad of cotton. “We would have healthy crops, our old barn, our friends, and we would have stayed.”

“Maybe so,” she said again. “But we may have missed out on other joys.” I watched as she rested her palm on her still-flat belly, watched as her eyes wandered to the window where Da could be seen. “That’s the way life is, Bree. Something happens, be it a miracle or a drought; one little moment in time. If you’re lucky, you have a chance to make things better. Don’t let it pass.”

We sat for a while on the bench, me leaning into Claire’s side with my head on her shoulder, our breaths almost matching.

“You’re good at this,” I whispered, feeling a bit silly but needing to say it all the same.

“At fixing things?” I felt more than heard her chuckle.

“No,” I started. “Well, yes. But it’s more. You’re good at listening, not just to my words, but to what I mean.” I paused again before I whispered, rushed, “You’re a good _mother._ ”

Then she leaned her cheek against the top of my head, tilting just enough to plant a kiss there. We stayed like that for a while until Da came to bring us inside. I felt loved.

* * *

“For now, aye.” The words echoed in my head, rolling over and over themselves making me more confused by the minute. They had closed a conversation between my parents one evening. A conversation about me.

“I suppose,” began Willie, sounding unusually Claire-like, making my father’s face split into a smile as he met our eyes, mine and Claire’s. “That I shall be expected to read more since I begin school tomorrow.”

“I suppose you shall, at that,” Claire nodded, the smile staying on her face. While we’d been in Maine Claire and her uncle Lamb had worked with Willie daily, though he was far more interested in the sea than in reading or arithmetic.

“And Bree?” Willie plied. “Will she read more once we’re in school?”

“She might,” Da replied. “Though she kens near as much as Mistress Campbell. I’m of a mind that she ought to stay home soon.”

I was very likely the only girl my age who was still _at_ school, but there were many factors to consider and I knew that Da and Claire had been looking at many angles. Both wanted a daughter who was educated well, but it was no exaggeration to say that my knowledge rivaled our school mistress. Da kept saying that my mother would be a better teacher for me now while Claire kept protesting that I ought to have every opportunity for outside education for as long as I could. She was concerned that Willie was too young to walk the whole way to the schoolhouse alone, as well. What neither of them said aloud, though I knew both thought of it, was that if I remained at home I would be able to help Claire more at home before the baby came.

Though many ideas spun in my head, I didn’t _know_ what I wanted. Part of me wished I was old enough and knew enough to sit my exams and graduate. Another piece of me wanted to be near my mother so I could be of help to her and so I could know all was well. So I waited for Da to continue.

“But she will come to school _now,_ ” Willie probed, making any questions on my part unnecessary.

And Da looked at Claire who merely nodded back, an entire conversation happening with only their eyes.

“Brianna will go to school,” Da smiled slowly, as if he was at peace with the decision. “For now, aye.”


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianna continues to process the newness of being back in a familiar place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, it's been longer than I thought! I wrote 90% of this chapter in a single sitting then got SO busy that I couldn't finish it! With that said, sitting on it to edit perfectly wasn't going to help. There's enough awfulness in the world, that I need to put something sweet out into it. The next chapter is more than halfway finished (though we all know that might be meaningless in regards to how long it will take lol!) 
> 
> Also, yes, I do have one-shot ideas for Jamie and Claire ;)

The next morning I rose even earlier than usual to be prepared to leave for school on time. I pulled my hair back, stopping long enough in the kitchen to ask my mother if she would braid it for me before Willie and I left. Where Claire had spent the past few months lagging behind or in a fog, in recent days she seemed filled with energy and life. I wasn't certain of the reason for the renewal, just that it made me feel more alive as well. She planted a kiss on my forehead promising to help me after breakfast.

Willie checked on the sheep and fed the chickens while I did my chores in the barn, the new barn that had been rebuilt after the fire. It wasn't exactly the same as the old one, but I liked how the hay loft didn't cover the space over our cow's stall. I’d looked up from my spot on the stool, I could see the rough-hewn trusses above that bridged the entire expanse and held the roof above us.

Da came into the barn as well, greeting me with a gentle squeeze on my shoulder. I could hear him softly singing one of Claire’s songs in his tuneless but rich voice. Resting my forehead against Eilidh’s side, I breathed deeply, the sweet smell of hay filling my nose and bringing me near to a sneeze.

“Ye ready for school then, Brianna?” he asked me, pausing in his humming to do so.

“Yes. I learned a lot from Uncle Lamb’s books and from Claire the past months.” It was true. I was far ahead of the students my age and likely more advanced than anybody else in our small school. It made me think quite a bit about how I might learn more.

“Ye’ll do us proud,” Da said as his head rose over the walls of the stall and he smiled at me.

I smiled back. It was going to be nice to go back to school. I knew Willie was happy to be going, but unhappy to be _working on learning._ My brother was a bundle of contradictions, Claire often said. I agreed.

“Changes,” I whispered to myself, thinking of both the past and what was now unfolding. And then, “Home.” This was still home, even after what the drought had done to us all, even after all the differences, seen and unseen. Maybe, I thought, that made it even _more_ home. My mother’s words returned to me, words about making things better, about not letting changes go by, about taking a moment in time and acting on it with the confidence that the outcome would be all the better for my own part in it. “Faith,” I murmured finally. Eilidh snorted and stomped her hoof, pulling me back to the present. 

When I eventually came back to the house, Willie was already seated at the table where he was chattering like a magpie while Da was cleaning up in the washbasin. Claire had breakfast waiting for us on the table. Willie, during a pause in his talking, shoveled a bite into his mouth before anyone could correct him and my mother shot him a withering glare. He quickly swallowed the mouthful of hot parritch and his eyes watered. After a prayer, my brother ate calmly, though his storytelling didn’t quiet.

“And those are the ten reasons I am excited for school and the seven and a half reasons I am not,” he declared with finality, ceasing, at last, to talk.

“How can you have half reasons, Willie?” I asked, laughing at him.

“I can,” he replied primly, raising his eyebrows. “It’s _nearly_ a reason for not being excited but it isn’t a very big one.” He folded his arm crossly, mildly indignant that I had laughed, but as soon as he met my gaze he began to smile too.

“Tis fine to be both excited and a wee bit frightened by the same thing,” Da said, taking a bit of parritch.

“Aye!” Willie agreed.

I could understand the mixed emotions about starting something new, about change. I couldn’t quite imagine what my Da, so caring and bold and brave, would be both excited and frightened of.

* * *

My feet were tired of walking and my ears were tired of listening, but my mind was full of lovely thoughts and ideas. I could tell that Willie, exhausted as he was, would likely fall asleep in his supper. Though he was talking at his usual, unceasing rate, I knew that both the novelty of the school experience and the rigor of it had worn him out.

“Do ye want to ride the mule then, Brianna?”

The Lindsay boys lived even rather from the schoolhouse and often rode an irascible old to our shared destination. I shuddered at the thought, generous though the offer was, of riding the moody creature. Caelum saw and laughed.

“I didna mean it to torture ye!” he explained, drawing more laughter from Willie and his brother Ewan. “Only that ye did spend more time working than the rest of us.”

“You did, Bree,” Willie added before easily returning to his previous conversation.

It _was_ true though. I had helped Mistress Campbell with a couple of younger students -a task that frustrated my brother- and had spent my lunch hour pouring over books that were more advanced.

In my mind, the beginning of an idea was brewing. What if there was a way for me to stay home and help my mother without missing a good education? Was there a way I could achieve even _more_ than the adequate schooling that our tiny school provided?

I smiled at Caelum. “I don’t mind extra work or extra effort. Just because something is a challenge doesn’t make it a bad thing, right?”

He nodded thoughtfully and we all plodded on, the boys mulling over my words and me thinking that tired feet _might_ actually be well worth avoiding.

“Thanks though,” I added, wanting to let him know I appreciated the offer even if it was a slightly terrifying one.

“O’ course,” came the easy reply.

That day after school none of us rode the cranky old mule. Instead we walked four abreast, mostly with our own thoughts even though we were together.

  
  
  



	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moments of joy and togetherness.

It’s surprising the way that you sometimes assume you know everything there is to know about a person. The realization that you do _not_ , in fact, know everything about them is equally surprising.

“Claire,” I blurted out one evening, in the stillness of each family member attending to quiet tasks. 

She quickly lowered her knitting to look at me, apparently dropping a stitch in the process, for I plainly heard her mumbled “damn” as her eyes went back to her work and she tried to hold it all in place. She took a moment picking through the yarn on her lap before looping a strand back onto a needle, then she sat back and looked at me.

Her eyes always looked beyond the surface.

“Hmm?” she hummed in reply.

“Did _you_ go to school when you were my age?” I asked curiously. I knew that Claire was intelligent, well-educated, and literate. I knew that she could speak fluent french (and had even insisted that I begin learning) and had a good grasp on the basics of Latin. But I was beginning to realize that I assumed quite a lot about Claire but I _knew_ relatively little. I wanted to know how she’d become who she was. I wanted to _know_ her.

“I did go to school, yes,” she said slowly, gathering up her knitting to begin as she gathered her thoughts. “But Uncle Lamb made certain that I learned more. He was the one who hired the tutor who taught me French. My uncle was the one who read with me, all the great classics. Then there were The Aunts,” she continued.

“What about The Aunts?” Willie interjected, immediately distracted from the sums he was working on his small slate.

“You met them,” Claire laughed. “I’m sure you can imagine the many topics they covered. They grew up either in boarding schools or with private tutors of their own.

“You know I’ve a fondness for plants, but that began with Ermenegilda and her instruction in botany.”

My brother scooted higher in his chair. “What _is_ that? Bo-tan-y?” he dragged the strange word out as if feeling along for the way.

“Botany,” I told him, “Is the study of plants.” I had read that in Uncle Lamb’s books this past summer.

“Precisely,” Claire beamed at me and my cheeks flushed with pride. “The study of plants and their structure, physiology, classification, and so on.”

Willie and I listened raptly as she elaborated. It was easy to forget all Claire knew and focus on the little things like the way she still struggled to clickit and disliked embroidery.

“And while I studied the scientific side of things with botany, there’s also horticulture, which is a more practical application.”

Willie’s eyes bugged at the word.

“Horticulture, from the Latin _hortus_ ,” Da looked up from his reading by the fire. “Meaning _garden._ ”

“Indeed.” Claire smiled that same smile that seemed to glow as if it came from somewhere inside of her.

“What else did you learn from school, Mama? Willie asked, shoving his slate away with an obvious look of disdain on his face.

“Being as their father was a mariner, The Aunts also taught me a great deal about the sea. That knowledge isn’t nearly as useful on a prairie, but navigating by the night sky could still come in handy someday. We all share the same stars.”

Claire regaled us with stories of her childhood by the sea until the wick of the lamp needed to be trimmed.

“To bed,” Da grunted, picking up an exhausted Willie.

I tucked aside my embroidery and Claire her knitting. We were at the foot of the stairs before I finally asked her.

“Do you think I could learn all that?”

“All that and more,” she said, cupping my chin in her hand and tilting it up so I looked at her. “All that and more, Bree.”

* * *

Fall was a joyous time for us that year. It’s not to say that things were easy. I saw with more than just the eyes of a child. I heard my mother, Claire, and Da talk about how the harvest was not enough to see us through to the spring. The drought had been difficult and Da would need to hunt before winter fell. We harvested what we could and Claire’s garden produced much that we canned for the winter. Our return to the prairie and being together was the start of it all, all the joy, but many friends returned too.

We had all known the Murray family was returning, but to actually see them made happiness bubble up in me like water in a spring! Jenny Murray had been a friend to my mam and had been a help after she had died. She had also been the first friend Claire had made on the prairie. Ian and Da worked together as a pair, always, and having him gone had seemed as if part of our family was missing.

One day in late fall, their wagon, loaded with their belongings and their three small children, pulled into our yard.

Da beamed as Ian climbed down from the wagon and held his arms to Jenny. Claire practically flew from the house, across the porch, and out to see her friend.

“I’ve come for my sheep then, man.” Ian smiled at Da, pretending to demand, teasing him. Then they threw their arms about each other and pounded one another on the back.

Pearl and Ruby were eager to play with Willie, and Baby Ian had grown so much that he held onto my fingers and walked about the yard as I kept him from falling.

And there was time before they left for me to speak to Jenny about a question that I’d been wanting to ask.

“I’ve been wanting,” I rushed, “To sew something. For the baby. As a surprise.”

Jenny’s eyes sparkled and she nodded.

“But I don’t see how I can buy the fabric or even work on it without Claire knowing,” I continued.

“Dinna fash,” Jenny Murray smiled broadly. “I’ve an idea. I will talk to ye at church tomorrow, Brianna, aye?” Then she winked as she climbed into the wagon.

Everyone smiled all through supper that day.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The joys of reunion and togetherness!

Often sunshine now carried with it a hint of wariness, but Sunday morning began with a world covered in dew drops. Today there would be church, a picnic, and friends.

Light streamed in through the windows, sneaking between the branches and leaves of the tree that stood in the yard, leaving patterns dancing across our floor. Da stood at the stove making breakfast, Claire’s calico apron tied about his waist. Willie giggled at it when Da turned around, a lopsided smile on his face, to serve us.

“She’s fine,” Da said soothingly, mostly to me. He knew that I sometimes still thought of Mam and worried. Even though details were blurry, her death immediately following Wilie’s entry into our world had instilled in me a deep fear that sometimes rose to the surface. Da understood. “Claire’s resting a bit longer. She didna sleep well last night and I told her to stay abed for a while.”

“I’ll clean up after breakfast this morning and collect the eggs so she doesn’t have to,” I offered, willing to help, even if it meant subjecting myself to Claire’s terribly aggressive hens. Somehow Claire could manage to collect the eggs, balancing them in her apron, without a single incident. Most often, the hens managed to draw blood when I fetched the eggs. 

Willie perked up, thinking of something to do as well. “I’ll do my chores and I’ll,” he screwed up his face until it was crumpled with confusion. “And I’ll not be a nuisance.” He nodded with finality and Da and I both laughed.

Da smiled at us both. “Aye, that will do.” 

That morning I thought of the sad, empty days before Claire had come to us. I didn’t care much for those memories at all. We had done all those things, breakfast and chores, ourselves though we’d done them poorly much of the time. Da or I would have made breakfast and I would have cleaned up after us all. That was done out of a lonely type of necessity though. _This_ was done because we loved Claire and could manage an additional task or two. So I began.

“Willie?” My brother was by the front door, struggling with a stubborn knot in the laces of his boots, but he looked up at the sound of my voice. “If you finish your chores before I do, would you get Claire’s basket and pack us a lunch to share? For after church?”

“Aye!” he smiled and I watched his nose, dotted with freckles, crinkle up in thought. “Cheese and that loaf of bread Mama made yesterday? And maybe something else? I think I’ll be _very_ hungry, Bree. I’m growing up.”

“You are,” I laughed at him, enjoying his honesty and eagerness and all the things that made me love my brother. “And yes, the cheese and bread and we’ll think of something else so nobody goes hungry.”

I wiped my hands on my apron and prepared myself for gathering eggs, taking the small basket that sat on the sideboard in our kitchen.

When I returned from the rest of my chores and the chicken coop, I was bearing a basket full of eggs and a scratch across the back of my hand that bled into the handkerchief I had tied around it. Claire sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast. She looked tired still, but not unwell. The smile on her face quickly fell when she saw my hand though.

“Oh, Bree,” she stood quickly. “Come let me tend to it.”

“It’s not awful,” I shrugged.

My mother rolled her eyes at that and muttered something about me not being my father’s daughter for nothing. She held out her hands and took my hastily bandaged one in her own, unwrapping it carefully.

“Which one was it then? Was it-”

“ _The black one”_ we both spoke at the same time.

“It was,” I grumbled.

“She’s an absolute terror,” Claire frowned. “I’ll tell your father we’ve had enough. A chicken dinner is in our future.”

“But the hens were your gift from Jenny!” I exclaimed. About a year ago, Jenny Murray had given Claire chicks. They’d been the fluffiest little creatures and Claire, unaccustomed to farm life, had quickly made it plain that they were to be pets, not meals. Apparently the ceaseless aggression had changed her mind.

She washed off the scratch, making me hiss with pain as it stung.

“Well if they terrorize my children, it doesn’t really matter if they were gifts or not. Chicken dinner is coming soon, Bree.” She smiled at me and I returned her smile with a grin of my own.

* * *

_Praise God from whom all blessings flow_

_Praise Him all creatures here below_

_Praise Him above, ye heavenly host_

_Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost_

_Amen_

Voices rose, filling the sanctuary and making it seem as if there were a much greater number of us present and joining in song. Da sang heartily and tunelessly, as he often did now. When Claire had come to us, he sang after being silent for so long, and it made my _heart_ sing with joy to hear it. 

When we at last left the church behind us, we scattered to our wagons to get the food we had all packed. Jenny Murray had already spread a blanket out and was waiting for us. She had left the service with Wee Ian who had refused to stop “singing” very loudly. My brother had struggled to cover his laughter at the baby’s participation and Da and Claire had smiled at one another over Willie’s head.

Now Willie was trying to sing with Ian again, though he was far more interested in the butterfly that kept landing on the edge of the blanket.

"When ought we to go then?" I heard Da ask Ian. I knew they were talking either of hunting or logging, two things that could see us through the winter in a year when crops had been scarce. They would choose wisely so we would be taken care of.

Wee Ian tired of the bread crust he'd been gnawing, just as he had tired of Willie's songs. He stood unsteadily and I watched as my mother extended her arms to him as she had so many times before.

Last Spring, she had held her arms out to him, a look that I now knew to be longing on her face. Today, reunited with friends and part of a growing family I saw her eyes alight and joy radiating from her smile.

The weather was beautiful. The joy of my family was even more lovely.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Frasers have experienced many changes in the past year, but they're looking forward to some new ones.

I knew it hadn’t happened overnight. I had been watching carefully for evidence of our new baby. But this morning there was a gentle, though obvious, curve below where Claire had tied her apron.

“When did  _ that  _ get here?” Willie blurted, staring.

“It’s been there, just...smaller,” Claire answered, looking down at herself with an expression as if she was somehow surprised as well.

“Will you be as big as Eilidh was before Ruaidh came?” he asked, grinning.

“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind until now,” Claire replied tartly, eyebrows raised.

“You’re welcome, then,” my brother said.

Da laughed, trying to swallow the coffee in his mouth. I saw the tears in the corners of his eyes and his face turned red. I giggled, covering my mouth.

“I certainly hope I shant ever be as big as the  _ cow, _ ” my mother continued. “But seeing as there are still months to go,” she smoothed her hand down the slope of her belly. “I don’t really know how things  _ will  _ go. I suppose we’ll see, won’t we.”

“All right then,” Willie nodded as if the matter was settled and we began to eat our breakfast.

The past week we had all been helping to finish harvesting the last of our crops. Willie, with little success, had been studying in the evenings. I had been studying as well, though my experience differed from his. With the right books, my mother to supplement with her extensive knowledge, and Da to answer questions, I was thriving and the seeds of ideas that had been germinating in my mind were finally beginning to bloom.

Da rose from the table to go out and start his work. He put one hand on top of Claire’s where it rested on the baby while he tipped her chin up for a kiss with the other.

Willie wiped his mouth on his sleeve, prompting a glare from our mother, and followed Da out the door to work shouting “See you for lunch!” as the door banged shut after him.

Then it was just Claire and myself and I wanted her on my side.

“I have an idea,” I began slowly, taking dishes over to where my mother had begun washing them. “But I don’t know what you’ll make of it.”

“Oh?” she asked, turning to look at me.

“I want to stay home from school and-”

She turned around quickly, her eyebrows drawn together, and wiped her hands on her apron. Claire pursed her lips and placed her hands on the small of her back, making the baby stick out even more.

“Wait,  _ please, _ ” I protested. “Wait until I finish.” 

She huffed and sat down in a chair. “You’re awfully young to leave school, Brianna.” She sighed.

“I don’t want to  _ quit.  _ I want to get ahead,” I blurted. “I want to sit my exams early and I want  _ you  _ to help me prepare. You’ve seen how much I can learn when I don’t have to help teach the younger children at the schoolhouse. You’ve watched me work in the evening. You know I can help here, help you and Da, and still prepare for the exams in the spring.”

As I’d spoken, my mother’s face had transformed from concerned to curious to  _ nearly  _ accepting what I’d said.

“I won’t deny how much it would help to have you here, but,” she paused and I could tell she was thinking carefully. She took a breath and started over. “You’ve done well studying this week, but this is a novelty, Brianna. Imagine if you didn’t have a teacher to give you your new assignments or classmates with whom you were competing.” She glanced sideways at me as she mentioned competition, knowing me well enough to realize one of the things that drove me.

“The idea didn’t just come to me now,” I argued, trying my hardest to remain calm while knowing all the while that we both had tempers. Sitting down in the chair beside her I continued. “Since school began, since you and Da started talking about what to do I’ve been thinking of a way to make everything work. I know that you both have a list of things you want.” I began to tick things off on my fingers while listing them, keeping my voice gentle and calm, being deliberate about explaining my plan. Demonstrating that I had what it would take to reach my goals.

“I know that you both want a daughter who is well educated. I want to sit my exams so I can graduate. You want a daughter who doesn’t miss out on anything she can get out of school. But  _ you  _ and Da can give me the education that I need right here. Then there’s the pragmatic side of things to consider.”

Claire smiled when I used the word  _ pragmatic _ , knowing that we’d discussed it when it had come up in a book I had been reading aloud while she’d been knitting.

“Da needs help with harvesting this week, but you’ll need  _ more  _ help as time goes by as well. I think I can achieve all those goals with what I plan to do here, at home, with your help.” I settled back in my chair and waited to see what Claire would say.

She looked at me with a myriad of emotions flitting across her face and though I didn’t understand them completely, I thought there was both pride and fear.

“You’re not a child anymore, Brianna,” she smiled.  _ That  _ smile I recognized. It was the same as when she remembered Maine, spoke of The Aunts, or told stories of her own childhood. Once I had been scared of that same smile, thinking that she would remember the past and what she used to have and she’d try to return to it. But she had stayed on the prairie, with us. I understood it better now, how one could love the way something had been, could be nostalgic or sentimental, but still take joy in the present. “You are an incredible young lady with a mind of her own.” Then she paused for a long time, lifting herself slowly from her chair before saying, “I’ll speak with your father.”

As I left the house that day I watched Da go inside and I knew that change was coming.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianna has an experience that frightens her, but that ends in her seeing the world around her in new a positive ways.

My battle to be allowed to pursue my education at home had come to a close without even a bit of a fight. Looking back, I know that it was never about whether or not I could learn enough outside of our little schoolhouse and was more about whether or not I would miss the experiences associated with  _ going  _ to school. Once I shared my own thoughts and ideas about it, the discussion between my parents had been seemingly brief and straightforward. I spoke to my mother about it, shared my hopes and wishes, and she’d agreed. She had spoken to Da about it, explained why  _ I  _ wanted it, and he agreed. And so, we planned for me to finish helping harvest the crops, return to school long enough to get books and other things, and to learn from home going forward.

I stayed home a bit sooner than anticipated though.

“I dinnae think I will ever sit my exams,” Caelum said. “Da says I dinna need to if I’m to take over the farm someday.”

I didn’t say so, but I thought that an education couldn’t hurt, even if one was to be a farmer instead of taking on a job that required more learning. Da knew quite a lot that he didn’t regularly use on a farm, but people around us knew he was well-learned and came to him for advice and wisdom. “ _ Just  _ a farmer,” was a phrase that would never be used when talking about my Da.

“Can I quit school too?” Willie whinged.

“Ye canna quit, Willie,” Ewan chortled. “Yer too young. Bedsides, yer da would never let you quit.”

“He wouldn’t,” I agreed. “And you’d have a much better time of it if you’d just focus more,” I directed the comment toward my brother.

Willie quickly stalked away a few paces ahead of us, grumbling under his breath. I smiled at Ewan and Caelum, trying not to laugh.

“Is tha’ no’ the Murray’s horse?” Caelum asked, pointing to the creature at the hitching post in front of our house. 

It was unusual for the Murray’s to come in anything but the wagon. Jenny usually had the children with her and Ian’s struggles with his leg meant that he chose to ride in the wagon more often than in a saddle on horseback. My heart beat a little faster, sensing that something was amiss, and I hastily said my goodbyes and rushed into the house.

My heart lurched to a stop as I entered. Claire wasn’t there. Jenny was balling up her soiled apron and placing her other hand gently on Da’s arm. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes had a haunted look.

“‘Twas close, Jamie. But she’s strong-”

Memories that were never far from me came rushing back. Those moments after Willie was born and the moments after Mam died were vivid in my mind’s eye, prompting in me a panic and a need to know that everything would  _ not  _ be like the past. I needed to know that everything would be right this time.

I’m sure both Da and Jenny called out to me, but I was already flying up the stairs and down the hallway. I lurched to a stop in their bedroom door to take in the scene.

My mother was in bed, a book in her hand, though I could tell she wasn’t reading. She looked tired and pale, a few freckles standing out on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks, and her hair was wild and untamed. A small pile of soiled sheets lay in the corner of the room.

“Brianna,” she exhaled my name. “What on earth is the matter?” She asked it as though she was standing in the kitchen and I had run in, mud on my boots.

It was only then I realized I had tears on my cheeks. I quickly stumbled to her bedside, putting my head in her lap as if I were a small child instead of a young lady.

“I saw Jenny, I saw she rushed over on horseback, saw her bloody apron and heard her talking to Da. And I thought,” I paused for a breath, “I thought something had happened to the baby.  _ Or to you. _ ”

It likely  _ had  _ been a close call, my mother explained to me. Not so much for her as for the baby. Da had rushed over to get help from Jenny. I stayed there, talking, until I was sure things would be fine. I stayed until I knew they would end differently than things had after Willie was born. And I stayed home from school as well.

* * *

When you look back through your memories some things that you thought were important at the time are barely there. Once in a while it’s because you have genuinely forgotten due to the passage of time, but sometimes it’s because those things weren’t as important as you thought they were. Then, there are those details that you never paid much attention to as they were seemingly insignificant. But those memories stay with you as some of the most beautiful. My most cherished childhood memories are the last type: Those I never knew were important but are those that changed me.

There’s my mother, Claire, teaching me at our worn table in the kitchen. Sessions of Latin tucked in between cooking and cleaning. Her gentle voice repeating, over and over, things that should have been simple or the way she celebrated me and my accomplishments, mentioning them to Da as if I had built an entire barn myself instead of mastering a mathematical concept. I’ll never forget the way her hands guided mine through her garden, identifying, touching, trimming, nourishing, and gathering. Or the way my hands took over for her as the months passed, my knowledge grew, and the baby made things more difficult for her. I can hear in my mind the tone of her voice, strong and sure as she answered me when I was puzzled. She wasn’t afraid to answer hard things, academic  _ or  _ otherwise. There’s a picture in my mind of the many exam questions she would write for me to solve and I can see her tall, slanted handwriting above my own bold strokes as I did my best to answer and explain, to memorize and recall.

I think those days were the moments in time when my brother began to grow up. Always, he had been “Brianna’s little brother,” but he grew into his own person then. Going to school on his own, working more with Da in the evenings, solving problems and tackling jobs without someone always at his side. It wasn’t just that he was taller or alone more, though both of those were true. It was as if his mind slowed down just enough that he thought things through to the end, or close enough, before saying them. It was the way he walked, watching his surroundings for things to fix or to observe instead of just seeing the world around him as merely  _ there _ .

Some things I remember are those that had happened over and over but I hadn’t paid them mind or given them much attention. It was like I saw them anew. The way Da would take Claire outside after supper. They used to walk or even to dance. Now they sat. I could hear the murmur of their voices ebbing and flowing, reminding me of the waves on the beach in Maine, rushing forward then hissing back in retreat. I never knew what they spoke of. It didn’t matter. Those times together built a strength in them and they brought that strength to our family, to shelter us, protect us, and help us grow. 

Those quiet moments, the ones that seemed ordinary, were tiny little moments in time that changed us all for the better.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The drought has left the Frasers in a small bind and Jamie and Ian are about to go off to work so they can fill in the gaps. Meanwhile, Brianna wrestles with her concerns about the family being separated once again.

The leaves on the tree that shaded the barnyard turned colors and fell as the wind turned colder. Just as I knew the smell of rain in the air, I could smell autumn drawing to a close and winter approaching. Da and Claire discussed how to handle the coming season. 

The drought, though now past, had left us in an uncomfortable position. We had no extra grain to sell, no additional vegetables to can, no surplus of any sort to use or sell. I am certain that Da knew all along that preparing for winter would require him to leave the farm for a time, but since we were separated during the drought, I knew he didn’t want to relive that experience. Ultimately Ian pushed him to make a choice in a timely manner, knowing that what needed to be done was on a timeline pressed by mother nature herself, and she wouldn’t wait.

Instead of going hunting or traveling to a logging camp, Ian had an entirely different proposal: surveying. They explained the idea to my mother one day.

"Well, it must be done then." I heard that brisk edge to Claire's voice that came when she spoke things she'd rather not say. She was at the kitchen table shelling peas but had set them aside to stand with a sigh as she'd spoken.

Da and Ian sat across from one another in front of the fire, discussing details. Their voices were mostly low, though they weren't hiding anything. It was the same way Da spoke to a wounded or frightened animal, soothingly and reassuringly, to take the sting away.

With one hand on the small of her back, making the bump of the baby seem even bigger on her slim frame, she went to stand by Da and put her other hand on his shoulder.

"It must be done, Jamie, and no amount of discussion will change it." Even though it wasn't a a complete smile, the edges of her eyes crinkled. "We'll be here waiting for you."

“Ye ken, I dinna want to leave,” Da sighed. “Aye, tis what we must do, but I dinna like leaving Bree and Wille, ye and the bairn, especially wi’ winter so near.” I saw Da reach his hand out to join Claire’s on her belly and watched their eyes meet.

Claire pressed on, businesslike exterior with softness only in her gaze that was aimed at Da. “How will you prepare? Do you have all you need or will you go into town for supplies?”

“We’ve dried meat and we can snare more along the way. There are also nuts and berries aplenty to take along, or even to find.” Da ticked off the items on his fingers and I could tell he was taking stock of even more in his mind.

“And the tools we need for surveying and recording, we’ve got those as well,” chimed in Ian, speaking for the first time that I’d heard.

Their conversation flowed on even as my heart clenched. This whole business of leaving felt rushed even though I knew Da had foreseen it happening the moment the drought began. And while my mind had known something like this would come to pass, I hadn’t truly allowed myself to think of what it would mean. We would be apart yet again, and instead of waiting for rain, this time waiting for winter to hit and force Da and Ian’s return.  _ It won’t be as long. It won’t be as difficult.  _ Even as I walked to the barn to do my chores, I kept reminding myself that this time it was different.

* * *

Da found me there, in the barn, with my forehead bumped up against the side of the cow as I milked her, steam rising from the pail.

“Will ye talk to me? So I can help?” He leaned against one of the posts that supported the hay loft and I thought of our old barn, the one that stood in the same spot before the drought and the fire had destroyed it. 

Da was always a good listener. And he waited for me to be ready and form my thoughts.

“It frightens me,” I finally confessed. “Not just you being gone and hoping that you’ll be safe, that you won’t fall into a river or have an accident while you’re riding through some unfamiliar land. It frightens me being here not knowing if I can do what needs to be done.”

With the harvest done, there wasn’t anything left that Willie and I couldn’t handle for the time being. If something on the farm went awry that we couldn’t tackle together, then Caelum and Ewan’s farm was near enough that they could help. That wasn’t my greatest fear though.

Still, Da didn’t say anything and he didn’t try to tell me what to think. He just waited, patiently and calmly, picking up a brush to smooth over the horse in the stall nearby.

I sighed heavily and began. “I can cook and clean, Willie and I can take care of the animals. There’s wood chopped and if we need more, though it takes us longer than it does you, there’s nothing to stop us from chopping more.

“Then there’s you. I suppose it’s just that I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“And?” Da probed for the first time.

“But don’t you worry about Claire and the baby?” I finally blurted. My true fear.

“I ken that you’ve talked wi’ Claire about how we can’t change the past,” he began, watching me nod. “But ye need to keep in mind we’re not promised the ‘morrow either. And so we grasp every moment and live it to the full. Bree, when yer mam died after Willie was born, that left a mark on our past that we canna change. But had each one of us not moved on in our own way, we wouldna be living the life we have now. Claire and the bairn wouldna be a part of that either.”

It was true. Our past had to happen the way it did in order to experience what we were now. It had to happen that way in order for the good  _ and  _ the bad of this time to unfold.

“So,” I began slowly, “Something  _ could  _ happen.”

My gaze met Da’s and he nodded that type of nod that was more of a  _ go on  _ than a  _ yes. _

“But something could happen  _ any _ time. So we live as much as we can while it unfolds, and like Claire said, we make sure those moments matter.” It was half a question, half a statement, and it hung in the air between us.

“For what it worth, Brianna, I ken you’ve both strength and joy enough to see you through whatever is to come. And you’ll live as if the best is in store.” Da came around the edge of the stall as he spoke, his boots scuffing the hay-littered floor, and put his hand on my shoulder as he spoke.

“We’ll be together again, soon. That is the best of it all.”

  
  
  
  
  



	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianna forges on and chooses to find the best in everything until the best happens all on its own!

Both Da and Claire had been absolutely correct. I was able to find joys and live life fully, even when circumstances weren’t ideal. Claire said that was a mark of growing up. Even more than merely getting older, it was a mark of maturity. And if I began to falter in my outlook, all I had to do was look to her.

My mother, in spite of being told by Jenny and Da to take it easy, found ways to be incredibly industrious. And while I continued to step in and take over more things she had done before, she often read out loud to me or quizzed me on the material I was supposed to be learning in school. She fixed Willie’s socks that he’d worn through, patched an apron of mine that had been scorched when I used it to grab the hot handle of a pan, and sewed tiny gowns for the baby. We laughed together, remembering all of her unsuccessful attempts at several of those things when she’d first come to our prairie home. Much had changed since that time.

For myself and Claire, most of our day was spent in the kitchen. The stove kept the space warm, and we were able to manage all of our tasks - cooking, sewing and mending, and studying - from there. While we worked together one afternoon, Willie came scampering inside, slamming the door shut behind him. His nose was red and runny and his cheeks looked rosy and wind-blown as well. He rubbed his upper arms with a little shiver.

“There’s snow coming for sure. You can tell just looking at the clouds. What do you think Da is doing today? If it snows, will he come back home?” Willie asked the same questions he’d asked every day since Da and Ian had gone, weeks before.

My answer was always the same, sighed “ _ He’ll come back soon, Willie,”  _ but sometimes our mother would turn it into a story. If I closed my eyes I could see what was happening as vividly as if I were there. I kept cutting vegetables for supper while she began to speak.

“They’ve probably found a safe place to rest tonight and plan to come back to it after working right until dusk. It’s beneath a patch of trees that stand particularly close together, but your da has also found a hollow under a cleft of rocks where they can stay the night, sheltered from the elements.” Claire went on, adding details such as what Da and Ian would say while they warmed their supper over the fire, copying his accent, and making Willie laugh.

We missed being together. In the past two weeks we’d awoken to a light dusting of snow that made us all hope there would soon be enough to force Da and Ian’s return. I had decided soon after they left that I could make do with much less in the way of material possessions if only it meant being together. But I also knew just  _ how  _ difficult things were to have made Da leave. 

“I must go back out to do my chores.” Willie wrapped his scarf haphazardly around his neck once again and jammed his hands into his mittens. “Will supper be ready when I’m done? What are we having?” He attempted both to head out the door  _ and  _ run back into the kitchen to see what I was preparing, immediately prompting a “ _ Boots!”  _ from both myself and Claire, as a clump of partially dried mud dropped onto the floor. “Sorry! Be back soon! I hope it’s good!” He called out, deciding on escape over satisfying his curiosity but risking our ire.

I smiled at Claire and stifled a giggle.

“Don’t forget to make sure that the barn door latches shut tight!” she called out, as my brother bolted out the door, slamming it once more. In a softer voice, meant for me instead of Willie, she continued. “The last thing we need is a barn door flapping around in the wind at night, letting snow in and making a mess of things.”

I nodded my head as I began to put our meal onto the plates. I glanced out the window.  _ Maybe it would snow. Maybe Da would be back soon. _

* * *

Something woke me up that night. There’s a special sound that you can nearly  _ feel,  _ when there’s no sound at all. The sound of snow falling, when the world seems to stop and come to rest and everything ceases to move or make noise. That’s what woke me. That’s what I heard. Getting up to see what had woken me, I dragged one of my blankets off my bed and wrapped it around my shoulders to shut out the chill that had crept into my room. Out my window I could see a blanket of snow, deep and fresh, flawless. It fell so heavily that I could barely see across the barnyard to the outline barn itself.

The barn door was open.

_ Willie. _

Claire had even told him to shut it tight! I supposed I couldn’t be too angry at him, since we all knew he could be flighty and unfocused at times. Maybe I should have gone out and checked after him. But there was nothing to be done for it now except go out there myself and take care of it. 

I began the tedious process of getting dressed in enough layers to be safely covered when I noticed from the corner of my eye, that the rope was strung from the barn to the porch. It hadn’t been there when we went to bed. If Claire had woken and strung that and was now stuck in the barn, I couldn’t imagine what Da would say when he found out. So much for making sure her load was light. I couldn’t even tell if there were visible footprints aside from a visibly trampled patch near the barn door!

The hallway was dark and I tried to walk quietly so Willie wouldn’t wake. Da and Claire’s bedroom door was open and the bed empty. Again, I chided myself for not checking the barn door, for not stringing the rope, and for letting the difficult task fall to my mother. Skipping the creaky stair, I made my way down. 

But there was my mother, head slumped to the side as she sat asleep in her rocking chair in front of the coals of the fire. I snuck close to put another blanket over her and stoke the coals, adding wood so I would be able to get warmed back up when I came inside. Struggling into my coat and boots, I was about to head through the door when I caught a glimpse of movement out the window by the barn. 

Broad shoulders pressing at the seams of his coat he shut the door of the barn and carried the lantern, a tiny pinpoint of light through the blinding white, toward the house. Even in the snowy chaos, I could see red hair peeking out below the brim of his hat.

Da had come home to us.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
